


Slow Tide

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [29]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Menstruation, Sickfic, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Natasha isn't feeling well, she knows who to call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperclipbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/gifts).



_ “Deep down, he’s all fluff.” _

The atmosphere in Natasha’s little-used suite at Stark Tower was awkward and tense, or it would have been if Natasha were paying any attention to the atmosphere. She was buried under a mountain of blankets on the wide leather couch in her living room, with her feet sticking out at the bottom.

The Game Show Network was flashing excited lights and screaming quietly on the suite’s massive flat screen. Natasha’s eyes were half-closed, but with what little energy was not being spent on the pain in her gut, she was paying attention to the quiet ramble spilling off the man standing down by her knees.

“Jarvis just told me you were feeling under the weather,” Bruce fretted, arranging the supplies he’d scavenged from his lab on the coffee table. Every few seconds he’d knock something over and right it quickly, glancing at Natasha in case the sound had disturbed her. “If I’d known specifically what was wrong, I’d have brought- well, not cough syrup. I do know what a woman needs at a time like this-” he froze and looked up at her suddenly. “I mean, hot water bottles, chocolate.”

Natasha groaned in an agreeable way.

“Is there anything I can do?” Bruce asked, wringing his hands.

Natasha didn’t need to look at him to know that he was wringing his hands; by now, she could just tell things like that.

She stuck a hand out from her blanket burrito and waved vaguely. In three seconds, Bruce was kneeling in front of her sofa. “Are you alright?”

Natasha opened her eyes to what was undoubtedly the most adorable expression she’d ever seen on Bruce’s face, and that was saying something. Anxious and earnest and… honest. There wasn’t a hint of suspicion or guile there. Even Clint, if he’d been here, would have been cracking wise to keep her spirits up; Steve would have been analyzing her condition behind his concern. But Bruce…

Natasha tried to pinch his cheek, but luckily, her muscle control failed, and she ended up cupping his face in her hand. Bruce flinched, then remained still, eyes wide, and let her do as she pleased. Humming with approval, Natasha let her fingers brush up his temple and play with his hair for a few moments. It was delightfully springy.

‘You’re wonderful,’ she wanted to say to those nervous eyes. Instead, she mumbled about Chinese food.

Bruce’s face lit up, but he didn’t move an inch. “Jarvis, could you place an order for us? Lots of soup, rice, nothing too spicy or rich.”

_ “Of course, sir.” _

“Is there anything else?” Bruce asked her.

Natasha’s fingers were still tangled in his hair, and he’d made no move to dislodge them. Natasha’s heart ached, watching him kneel in front of her couch with no aim but to make her feel better, and no complaint or expectation. ‘Lay down with me,’ she wanted to say, but even medicated, half-asleep, and distracted by cramps, she knew it would run him away.

“Stay?” she asked instead.

Her eyes slid shut before she could see the way his expression softened. “Of course.”

Bruce got up and moved her feet so he could squeeze onto the end of the couch. Natasha mumbled happily under her blankets and burrowed the tips of her feet beneath his thighs. On the Game Show Network someone won $64,000. And there they stayed.


End file.
